Muzio's Garden - My Story

Saying when I started painting is like trying to say when I started thinking. I would like to say that I always had this urge to be creative but I can’t. I always have been creative but it was never an urge, it just was. In my early childhood, where I was the youngest and only boy born late in life to a father of Italian heritage and a mother of Scots/Irish heritage and with three older sisters, I often fashioned my own toys and made my own games. I needed to entertain myself, as there were no other children my age in the semi-rural neighborhood where I grew up. There were open fields, old buildings and sunny days with my dog, Boxer.

It wasn’t until my teens and the 60’s, both of which arrived with a tremendous explosion of ideas and realities, that I truly discovered that there were others such as myself and that I could relate to them. In my late teens and early twenties I was introduced to photography by Charles Francis, then a brother-in-law. It was in San Francisco when doing your own thing meant to find out what truly interested you and do it. That was how you could fit into society. It had quite a different meaning then than the self-indulgent model portrayed today. So I was introduced to photography, jazz, theatre, improv acting, literature and a very hip scene. It was one in which the arts, music, cultures and intellectual pursuits met on a common ground. I should say that at this time I, also, studied improvisational comedy under Cindy Kamler at the Committee in San Francisco for a short period of time and was in several performances. I was blessed to work with likes of Joe Spano, Robin Williams and Howard Hessman amongst others. But I wasn’t ready to step out. So I kept with the photography while working various jobs. Many prints were made in my darkroom but no finished product and no shows. Many jobs were taken but, alas, nothing substantive. It was in my early thirties while working at Adolph Gasser’s in San Francisco and studying with Paul Glines that my life took yet another direction.

While standing in my favorite bar, The Pub, one Sunday afternoon, I watched a most captivating and beautiful lady disembark the 38 Geary bus and enter our friendly confines at the Pub. After several minutes of secretive glances across the room, she walked past me and in my most suave manner, I said “Hi.” She asked me if I remembered her. I didn’t but mumbled out some sort of story and she laughed. Her name was Arlene and we had been born 10 days apart at St. Joseph’s Hospital in Stockton, California. We had gone to kindergarten, grammar school and high school together. We had not seen or heard from each other for 16 years. We married 8 weeks later on September 29th.

It was a 22 year marriage in which we had one son, yet that marriage ended in a disaster of death and deceit. A lady that was our friend throughout the marriage was given a place to stay after she had lost all of her savings and job in San Francisco. We were now living in a small town in Northern California. I had started a computer training school and we were doing well and planning retirement. This friend, Joanna, counseled my wife to follow her bliss and leave the marriage and family; that a mother had to “kill the relationship with her child before a new one could grow.” She, never having been married nor having had children, was to be rewarded with our family home for her efforts. This was done as we were closing the school; planning on retiring. My wife, of her own volition and at the behest of others, retracted a 22 year promise and what was to be my retirement was taken away. Separation and then divorce proceedings were started and continued even though she had been diagnosed with terminal cancer. She worked with a bank in Stockton and her lawyers and family to transfer the title to our home to this lady friend, without my knowledge. It was a Machiavellian drama in which my son and I were misbehaving and were but pawns. The die had been cast and she and her counselors were the directors and producers of this ever so strange drama. In the midst of this vortex of betrayal I was guided back to my creative work by friends and told to continue my writing, which I had been studying. The camera beckoned. It was my outlet, my sanity. I was now using digital equipment and started working with photo manipulation and collages. Seeking safety and security, my son and I moved to Chandler, Arizona. Shortly thereafter, my wife died. The ultimate divorce had taken place, while the legal one had not.

While here in Arizona, I continued my studies of digital art but with a greater intent. It was while taking a course in Basic Design at Scottsdale Community College I was given a painting assignment that this new direction and phase took hold. The pace of working with paint, the play of colors and the corporeal element of textures fueled a passion to continue and it captivated me. I was working on this assignment in class when my instructor, Dr. Susie Khalil, stood behind me, telling me that the piece wasn’t yet done and then she quietly said that she wouldn’t let me retire. It was the start of a wonderful relationship.

And the story continues, as does my work. I am now living in Chandler, AZ with my son. He is now in college and I work fulltime on my paintings and part-time elsewhere. I feel that I have been given a gift in that I see the world a bit differently from many. The forms, the play of colors and lines that I perceive are all reflected in my work and are part of my gift back to you. I hope that you enjoy my work. You can purchase either prints of my work on-line or at locations where it is displayed. I am also available on a commission basis. And now let me thank you for your time.